Not but a Name
by Empressofwhispers
Summary: Alexander was exiled by his father and his mother was being forced to watch her own daughter marry her brother. Afterwards he wonders if perhaps his father wasn't as perfect as he supposed? WARNING: SLASH IS INCLUDED.
1. Weakness Exposed

Not but a Name

He had called his mother a whore and him a bastard. Alexander had every right to loathe the old man with his entire mind. The sweet uncle of Eurydice; the real whore who seduced his father into marrying her and spreading his seed into her, her uncle had called him a bastard. Yet that did not fathom him as deeply as his father's words had. Exiling him from the kingdom in a drunken rage had not only lost his respect in his son's eyes, but also hurt him. This made him realize that as well as his father had claimed he was no son of his, that man was no father of Alexander's. Still, it cut him deep. Leaving him the young prince, standing at the edge of a large lake pondering both of the men's words. Did all the other subjects to the kingdom think him a bastard? His mother a whore? How dare they think such! His mother was a sexy woman, still beautiful in her age that had done what was necessary to give her son great power. And yet Alexander still had not fought his father with her behalf on mind.

While he was mulling over the depressing matter in his mind, a faithful friend and sweet companion had walked slowly to join him. Even though a foot or two apart, the boy in mental turmoil instantly noticed Hephaistion's warm body was next to his own. With comforting concern, Hephaistion softly placed an arm around Alexander's shoulders, "What bothers you, my Achilles?" Admiration and regard ran thick in his voice, "Might I be able to help you with it?" At these two questions asked in such a manner, Alexander could not suppress a smile to show Hephaistion, "I was just thinking of what happened and what those drunken fools said." This reopened the cut, causing it to hurt worse than it did before. The other young man searched his eyes and immediately saw how it was affecting his mind and didn't like it. Not one bit. He himself was puzzled at how the king could throw away his son so easily without even a flinch or a second thought of regret. But he did not let this get in his way of comforting Alexander.

"Do not let it trouble you so, Alexander, Attalus is but an arrogant man; one who should not get to you. Especially not like this." Hephaistion rubbed the young warrior's shoulder, "Tell me what truly is plaguing you." The blonde haired man gave in and laid his head upon the strong shoulder beside it. He never could keep anything from Hephaistion. Nor would he now, he knew how to heal the wounds of his mind. Fresh salty tears rimmed his eyes and he choked out his thoughts, "Do you think it true? Their words, their opinions?" The gentle pressure upon his head told Alexander that Hephaistion had laid his head on his own. It always had amazed the prince how such a good fighter could be so sensitive. This didn't stop him from pouring out his mind, "Do you too think me a bastard? Do you think I covet my father's throne? If I have I knew not. I love my father! Do you think he meant what he claimed?" He would have gone on all night with questions, had a relaxing 'sh' sound not stopped him. It was of course Hephaistion, who was by now holding him within an embrace more consoling than that of his own mother's. Taking in a deep breath and closing his eyes, Alexander settled into his arms, to which his body did all but complain.

"How you think such astonishes me," Hephaistion stopped rubbing his shoulder only to rub his back, "Phillip had only filled himself with too much wine; Attalus did likewise with pride and conceit. Why would I think those things, Alexander? Have I so much in common with a drunk and an ass? Be at ease, for I could never even think about having such an opinion." If Alexander assumed that his heart had melted completely before, he was ever so wrong now. And with the flaming sensation within his chest, he knew that exactly. Once again he had been convinced the truth from the man he wished to call his lover. It was at that moment that he surrendered for the first time to what was inside. Not a liver nor a kidney, but an instinctive mind and a quickly beating heart. One that was in fact, beating so rapidly that he wasn't sure whether he could reply over this delightful weakness that consumed him like a fire. The flames and cold embers of this emotion licked him slickly and left him shaking in the cold air.

The silence made Hephaistion fear that there was tension in the air, but when he felt Alexander shake he pulled him closer in haste; as though he would shatter into many pieces if he didn't. Indeed it was cold and the moist mist arising from the lake was solid evidence of that, but were they exaggerating the cold to give them a little taste of what they desired? Whether they were or not it mattered none to either of them, for it was late and the trauma of the wedding brawl were good excuses to do so. It was so encumbering to them both to be so important even if it was just by association. In moments like this, the best thing for either of them to do was to be with the other. It was a bond, a friendship, a comfort and a love. Never had anyone in Macedonia seen or experienced that deeply of an alliance. Though they did surrender to their feelings sometimes, the people of both Macedonia and Greece thought that doing so was weak and undid the character of a man. But these two had never abided such rules and thus it did not matter.

So they sat there, not knowing how precious this time together would be in the future. Oblivious to what lie ahead, they enjoyed the serene feeling of security with each other. Brief relationships between men were common, but this was nothing brief. It had started when they were young and would not stop when they were old. They both were determined not to let anything corrupt these emotions of passion between them. Not war, not fools, not the public, not even death. Sure they were young, and often the young exaggerate or make mistakes; but this was neither. Though they weren't aware of how powerful it was, it was extremely powerful and it was there.

Finally Hephaistion raised his courage to talk some more, "A bastard is merely a name, Alexander. It may be a stab to the mind and cause it to crash, but the body lives on. No matter how hurt this leaves you, you'll go on." For once Alexander wanted to surrender to death and not live on. This was very unlike himself and he knew it. Perhaps speaking with Hephaistion would help clear his mind, "Indeed, but must I go on alone?" After that he felt Hephaistion give him a small squeeze and a smile, "Now who, pray tell me Alexander, told you that you had to go alone?" This squeezed out a chuckle and a wan smile from Alexander, who still had cold tears streaming down his face. The man sweeter than the finest wine raised his hand and tenderly guided the tears away from his face.

Alexander had not yet expressed his admiration and feelings for Hephaistion, so was very cautious in how much affection he let slip incase it was too much and he scared him away. Though he doubted that would happen he would not take that risk.

Slowly from behind, Ptolemy crept up to the men who were comforting each other. Steadily his feet carried him until he saw that there were two men instead of one. Guessing that Alexander was still upset, he froze in his tracks. After seeing him fight with his father fearlessly, Ptolemy did not desire to feel his wrath first handedly. Just because he took mercy on his father did not mean so for him. The philosopher in the making was just turning around when he heard them mumbling and his curiosity lulled him back so he could hear them. Even young, Ptolemy knew better than this, but he could not resist the urge to stay and hear the mumblings that grew louder with each step.

"We should probably go back and get supplies to find someplace outside of Greece to camp. As much as I hate to remind you I've been banished." Ptolemy knew this to be from Alexander. "No, your father didn't mean it. We don't have to go anywhere. Obeying your father will have taken all that courage and fury and spin it into nothing. Do you want your valiant efforts wasted? No, no. We don't need to go anywhere. I'll stay with you out here." This was undoubtedly Hephaistion, so eager to support Alexander. Ptolemy wondered to himself about these two. Why was it that whenever something was wrong Hephaistion was always first to be by his side? And why was it that Alexander always allowed him into his mind when he wouldn't even his own mother? It had always been so. Even in their days with Aristotle had they been inseparable. Why? Was there more between them than they let on? Yes, there had to be. That would explain so much if there was. All the girls in Macedonia had spread rumors of this, but Ptolemy never thought the rumors true until now. Why would they not admit it? Was it because they were ashamed of what they felt? No, Alexander was too strong headed to be ashamed of anything. Well except perhaps his father's wild behavior. Any son would be ashamed of that. Suddenly the truth dawned on him brighter than Apollo's view of the sun. What if they did not realize how much the other cared? Yes, yes! That had to be it! What else?

Ptolemy, thinking too hard as usual, had blinded himself and ran quickly back to the palace; forgetting that if he ran too hard onto the moist grass that he would attract attention. Still, he knew a secret of Alexander's! And even though he was not one to use the evils of secrets, he wondered if it might come in handy.

Author's Note: Okay my dear readers! This is it for chapter one! It may be too fluffy, but that's because I originally intended for it to be a one-shot. That is until a plot struck me. I know, I know, how could I get a plot out of this? Well the point is I did and I will continue this more later. Until then, keep reading!

The Empress of Whispers


	2. Olympias, misunderstood mother

Author's Note: Thank you to those who read! I've made this new chapter especially for you!

Chapter Two:

Olympias lay upon her bed in her tower where she had been placed until her execution. Still, at least Phillip's officers had the decency to let her keep her beloved snakes. She stroked the slick skin of her white serpent and it nearly purred with delight at her touch. Her true and loyal friends be these, the snakes that coiled around her. They scared her not, yet she still loved them with caution as she did all things dear to her. Except Alexander, her beloved son. She had seen watched him with her eye as he rose to her defense. Still, she let not the appearance fool her façade of judgment. True, he had yelled at her enemies, but had he done it for her? "No," she began to purr herself in her deep thought, "He did it for his vision of honor… and for himself." A sigh blew out from inside her and she leaned back more into the bed, "Still he shows respect of Phillip's wishes after betraying his company. Perhaps I have not shown him the rewards of no soul."

Her time alone was interrupted by a silent yet rapid tap on the window. A storm brewed inside her mind as she gracefully slid her pets into their baskets and cautiously opened the window. A young man no older than twenty fell into her chamber, cold and soaked. Olympias shoved the window back into place and hissed at him, "What is it you do to intrude on a woman's last hours alone?" The boy acted flustered, and Olympias observed him. He had short, curled locks of ebony and skin as tan as the desert floor that shimmered nicely with his misted, green eyes. This was an honest boy who had brought a message that he did not understand, she concluded but took no mercy on him. He knelt at her feet, "Please, my queen, I have brought a message from King Darius! He wishes to help set you free!" The woman still pretended to be cold hearted and spat upon his head, "At what price?" The messenger winced at being spat on but answered her in fear of being hit by more than saliva, "Answers to questions about the marriage." This in turn, resulted in a sneer from Olympias, "Which one?" Her white teeth reflected the lightning that had just started outside as she snarled.

This was easy for her to do, the cuts of her broken heart against her chest bled and burned worse than fresh Greek wine. Phillip's discontent with her had thrown her off and made her want to scream until she had cracked the earth in two. He had betrayed her by planting his seed through this little Greek whore and now he was putting HER to death! A cry of rage cradled in her throat and she was so tempted to let it go, but then realized that she had picked up the boy while letting her suppressed hurt to leak and had almost strangled him. At once she dropped him to the floor and let out all the answers he needed. Tomorrow was her dear daughter's wedding to her brother, and the announcement of her execution. She wanted nothing more than to hear Phillip's execution announced instead. Alexander would not be king, he would be put to death as well and that's what angered her most of all. Phillip could kill her, but to murderer her son as well was crossing her line and she would not stand for it. Not that she could do anything. Her snakes could bite him she guessed, but that would not do much, the servants would gladly suck snake venom from his ass if needed.

After she had given him his answers, the boy crawled out the window quicker than he had tapped her window. Olympias let out her snakes once more and this time, began to weep.

Alexander attempted to refuse but couldn't argue with Hephaistion. The temptation to listen to him was so arousing that he couldn't help but succumb to the sensation driven by his emotions and the man in front of him. Hephaistion turned out the light and slid into the bed linens and Alexander let himself curl into his arms. The warm embrace was so therapeutic that it had almost lulled him to sleep. What madness was coming over him? The question rolled about in his head but rolled out just as quick just as it had spun in. Alexander's melting heart pulsed hotly in his chest as Hephaistion's breath brushed up against his neck. And as amazing as the feeling was, it only got better. "Achilles," Hephaistion's voice rose barely below a whisper. To that name, Alexander slowly turned to face the person holding him to whisper right back, "Patroculus," At this, his companion nearly purred.

The prince's hands slid themselves above Hephaistion's chest and suddenly found themselves behind his neck, where one caressed up his scalp. At such an intimate touch, Hephaistion's body crumbled onto Alexander's. Thinking that perhaps this was an annoyance to the prince, he apologized, "Forgive me." But the warrior to be would not have it, "For what," he pulled the more insecure man back to his place until a thought struck him, "Wait, if my touch displeases you, I should be the one to entreat your pardon." At once Hephaistion shook his head, "No!" and let his body lie upon his beloved Alexander's.

Whatever this was, they both enjoyed it immensely. Alexander wondered why. What was it that drove him to love the moments like this? Was this just their friendship or perhaps a love deeper than that Alexander had been taught? A string of thoughts collided into Alexander like the chariot of fire that Apollo drove everyday. Even thought he was not really hit by such a chariot, he felt the strength of one in his mind and was deeply shocked to find that his body flinched not. Then a thought stronger than ten such chariots ran him over and burned with the intensity hotter than a thousand suns, including the fiery chariots that carried them. This thought burned and froze, cut and bled, shocked and killed him. This thought was this; what if Hephaistion felt nothing like this about him? What if he was just extremely loyal to him because of his rank? Or maybe just a good friend? Or what if he was neither?

So many "what if" thoughts ran into him, he nearly screamed. These insecurities were strong, and he disliked them more than the woman who was replacing his mother. This was surely the work of the furies. What had he done to upset them? What else would they do? Could it be any worse than this pain? For in his mind Alexander knew that the worst pain was not of flesh but of the mind. And his mind was in thorough distress. This burning was not the sensation he was feeling earlier, this burning was that of a white hot sword just off of the blacksmith's fire. This was a torture beyond that of all belief. Beyond a defeat and to Alexander the great that was a torture indeed. Oh, how this unnerved him!

Sensing the uneasiness within his dear, dear Alexander, Hephaistion nuzzled his neck and then whispered in his ear, "Does that name still bother, my Achilles?" He had done it again. Hephaistion had once again redeemed him from pure destruction of the mind and heart. The prince began to embrace Hephaistion unlike that of any mere kind embrace and murmured, "No. It bothers me none, thanks to you, Patroculus." His loyal companion was fooled none though, and thus he began to kneel above the exile and cupped his face in both a threatening and loving manner, "Lie to me not, Alexander and tell me what bothers you so. Please, I pray, say it is nothing I have done to displease you!" That instant the prince knew not only that Hephaistion was his loving friend, but also that he could not distance himself from him. Not for all the fiery chariots ever to exist or for every torture that the furies could throw at him. If he could to help Hephaistion, he would… but he could not. Neither a cell of his mind, nor a thread of his heart would let him. At this unspoken vow Alexander smiled and tucked a strand of the kneeling Hephaistion's hair behind his ear, "I would never lie to you, my beloved Patroculus. Not for all the glory within the heavens and earth. I will confess to feeling distressed, but you ease me. Never could you do anything to displease me." Hephaistion raised an eyebrow, but after seeing absolute truth within the eyes of the beholder, he lowered himself to rest upon his chest and they both soon fell into beautiful slumber.

Author's Note: That's the end for this chapter. I thank those who read and dedicate all my work to them. Without them, there is no point in me working at this at all.

Thank you.

The Empress of Whispers


	3. Hephaistion's desperate wish

Not but a Name Chapter three

"Alexander… Alexander… wake up, Alexander!" The excited voice of Hephaistion woke Alexander from a deep dream, for which he was glad. It was a terrible dream to behold. Within his dream, Alexander saw that Hephaistion lay lifeless as stone and a glass of wine next to him. The wine glass lay on the floor as lifeless as the person next to it. Then the wine spilled upon the floor left a trail which he followed that lead to a horrifying image; the image of his father's head upon a golden plate. A shudder ran through him as he clung to his dear friend, "Hephaistion, I had a dream… It was…" "Not now, Alexander! Your father has taken back the events of last night!" Overwhelming joy hit Alexander, making him forget completely of his nightmare and tears of relief swarming at his eyes. He pushed them away however, and relaxed into Hephaistion's arms. The prince soon forgot all his problems and for a second, had almost fallen back asleep into the embrace. Unknown to him, his older friend was smiling and blushing quite awkwardly. In his mind, Hephaistion knew that he had to tell Alexander before he asked one of the ladies in Macedonia. He attempted to gather his courage as the prince murmured in his chest and closed his eyes.

"Alexander?" He timidly started as his heart raced. Why was he doing this? It wasn't as though Alexander felt the same way. Why was he even going to bother telling him? It was because he didn't want his heart shattered into many pieces even if it meant ruining the ladies' chances. It was selfish to think that way but Hephaistion was so selfless about so many other things, that this was okay. Alexander murmured some more, "Mmmmhmm?" Hephaistion's courage was flying fast, "I-I know that y-your mother wants you t-t-to…" Inside, the young man was killing himself for not being able to manage any more words than that, but there was nothing he could do. His words had gotten Alexander's attention, however, and he finished the rest of the sentence, "To marry and produce an heir?" The older one nodded, "Yeah… w-well, I just wished t-to tell you something…" At this point, the boy actually thought he was going to get it over with… that is until he heard a knocking on the door by some slave girl. After that he knew he had wasted his chance and sighed. The prince cupped his face and pressed a light, quick kiss on the other boy's lips and then gave him a smile, "We will have to talk about this later. Are you alright, Patroculus?" Hephaistion nodded and gave him a wan smile, and without another word, they left to prepare for Cleopatra's wedding.

(Not but a Name: Olympias)

"Come with me, your majesty. The King has even been kind enough to buy you a dress for the occasion." A young woman that the king had probably had his way with dragged Olympias out of her rickety bed and into a bathing room. In the room laid a bronze basin large enough for ten fully grown ladies to wash the filth from this world off of flawless bodies. As much as she hated to admit it, Phillip sure did take damn good care of her physically, though she couldn't say the same about him nurturing her emotional needs. Inside she boiled in a fit of rage against herself. Here he was about to cut her last chance for life and she was thinking how good he was taking care of her! Utter nonsense that she would not tolerate began to leak out of her mind as her slip fell to the floor, exposing her bare skin to the humid summer air. She dipped her feet into the basin, soon to be followed by the rest of her body. She lathered herself with the sweet magnolia oil quickly as the servant girl took a matching bronze pitcher filled with hot, steaming water and poured it lazily all over her queen. She apparently was just as sensitive to Phillip's wedding to Eurydice as Olympias was. Still, the queen had felt no sympathy for her whatsoever. "That's what you get for being a muse," her low voice rumbled softer than a whisper. The slave girl didn't hear and had realized how awfully she was doing her job, seeing that since Olympias was still queen she could be put to death if she didn't do better. "I entreat your pardon, my queen," She pleaded for mercy, "My mind is not on my duty today. Please bless me with your forgiveness." With nothing more than a curt nod as her answer, the imprisoned queen fell back more into the basin and attempted to relax the tension rising in her shoulders.

A soft groan of pain erupted from her as nearly scalding water slithered over her weak, naked body like the beloved snakes she kept with her at all times. Thinking about them she summoned the girl to bring them forth to her, "My snakes enjoy the pleasure of water. Bring them here." Without knowing how to react, the slave did as she was told instantly. Olympias was well aware of the myths being told about her, but she had no intention of letting false assumptions keep her from the people and things she loved. However, her husband was an exception. He was a people pleaser, whether by doing well or forcing them to be pleased with him; he hated having people sprout rumors about him. So naturally when the stories of his wife sprang to his ears, he stopped laying her down so that the people thought more of him. This she could not help, but it still hurt her deeply. Their marriage had been another one of the things Phillip had done to gain power by pleasing people, but over time Olympias had grown to love him. This was why it hurt that he'd betrayed her and never loved her all along.

The slave girl then came in with her snakes and on her request; she let them into the bath. Delightful and thankful at Olympias for letting them in, they curled around her. One coiled around her from the bottom of her left breast to the right side of her hip. The other had slunk to bask in the water and rest upon the crease of her left shoulder and around her left arm. All three relaxed and Olympias closed her eyes as more hot water filled the space around them. All three indulged in the pleasant scent of the magnolia oil that she had spread on her skin and all three let their feelings leak off of them and into the water like the dirt that washed away from their bodies. The queen let out all her insecurities and felt safe within the embrace of her serpents. This was one of the scarce moments in her life where she actually felt perfectly content and happy with herself. (Which was a rather odd feeling to enjoy at such a time as that.)

The servant had always believed the stories about their queen just as faithfully as she believed in Zeus himself, but now she saw the truth. The poor lady was not into witchcraft, she was simply misunderstood by most, even by her own husband. Aliyah thought to herself whilst dunking the pitcher into more hot water that she had freshly heated over the fire in the kitchens. She now did not blame Olympias for being so cautious in who she trusted. These snakes were her only friends in her life now that the wedding between her daughter and her brother was to take place. "You are a strong woman," Aliyah chided her; "I wish I had your courage."

Taken by surprise, the lady in the basin took a moment to mull over the comment she'd just received and then threw away considering what to do about it. She was about to die and she then figured that there was no point in hiding herself. A tear hotter than the freshly boiled water slid down her cheek and she smiled at the slave, "I am grateful. What would your name be?" "Aliyah." The servant promptly responded, "My name is Aliyah." Olympias pondered her name in her mind and spoke once more, "It sounds Egyptian. Where be your family?" The slave gave her a wan smile, "Where you named, my lady. My father came from Thebes, my mother from Cush. After my father died in war, my mother killed herself. I then ran from being put to death myself after I tried to steal some food to eat." Olympias was never good at reaching out to other people and so she refrained from it at all times possible, thus giving her a reputation to be eccentric. In a way replacing the use of words, she reached for the girl's hand. She was losing Cleopatra today, but she felt as though she was gaining a daughter rather than losing one.

Aliyah helped her queen arise from the basin and placed a warm towel around her. Olympias placed her snakes in their baskets and then inquired about the dress Phillip had chosen her to wear, "Now, at once show me this robe that my husband requests I wear." Aliyah nodded and brought forth a slim, black silken dress that held together by a silver clip that had the sign of Hades engraved upon it. Olympias shook her head from side to side. King or not, she would not succumb to such a low demand, "No. I will not wear it. Instead, bring me my red dress, Aliyah." The slave gaped at her wide-eyed, "The red one? Your majesty? He would spit upon you in shame!" The imprisoned queen rose her hand to slap the girl, "Bring it forth I say! What he will do in the next three days will be worse than mere spit." Aliyah obeyed the firm demand and began to dress the queen in a blood red robe. Pulling the dress up above her breasts and to her shoulder, Aliyah stayed silent as she focused on fastening the new golden clip into the dress. Then both women remained deathly quiet as the slave placed a golden headdress with blood red gems upon Olympias's fair head.

The queen flinched slightly, thinking about how this would probably be the last time she wore it. Aliyah, being a skilled mind reader saw her flinch and understood at once, "My lady, if I may say that new girl may be queen after your death, but you will always be the first and most remembered." Somehow her words rung into the queen's mind and gave her much peace of mind. Olympias gave the girl a soft, quick kiss and wiped fresh tears out of her eyes and straightened her back into a regal pose. After this she embraced the slave, "Aliyah, I request that you be the servant to escort me to the wedding. I will have no other." The young girl nodded and they soon walked out after Olympias put on her scandals.

(Author's Note)

Okay, this was a short chapter, but I felt that it was necessary for a little development in the story. I hope you all enjoyed it. I'm beginning to relax a little and mold into writing this. This is my first fan fiction on "Alexander" so please be patient. Thank you!

-The Empress of Whispers


	4. Death of a Beloved

Not but a Name

Chapter Four

A young man, soon to be proclaimed the son of a god, heaved a big sigh of breath upon seeing his mother in her crimson dress. Abstracted against all the white, she stood out worse than a beggar in a marketplace. Although he would never admit it to save his life, Alexander loved her more than he even knew himself. But what was this, a different servant than the one Phillip assigned standing by her side? He inwardly smiled; his mother did love a few people more than she would admit too. The wedding speech had not even yet begun and the games would not follow after all too soon. This was going to be a long day for Olympias, Alexander sighed once more.

"What is it that troubles you, Alexander?" A deep voice with concern rung from behind him. The prince let out a small breath of relief upon hearing his father Phillip's voice. The king had "forgiven" Alexander publicly and so there they were once more, father and son. At least, that's what they were supposed to assume. His mother had always claimed that he was the son of Zeus, but Alexander had always thought of it as a lie. None the less, he stood there with his father and silently replied, "Nothing, my king. I was merely wondering if perhaps we should mount upon our horses and ride to make a more noticeable appearance." At this Phillip laughed, "My son, you never cease to amuse me. How you let something so trivial get into your core is beyond my understanding." Another deep, long laugh erupted from within his belly and Alexander smiled somewhat unwillingly. Finally Phillip began to talk again, "Yes, my son. Truth lies within your words. We will have Irena bring us our horses and shall ride them to the coliseum. Come, let us summon her and order her to do so." With a nod and a trudging pace, Alexander did as he was told and followed his father. And as they walked on, with every step he took, he could not help but wonder what it was that his beloved Hephaistion had wanted to say.

(Not but a Name: Olympias)

The queen who was to be executed internally battled tears and sneered at the statue of Phillip that was being raised outside the coliseum. With extreme grace, she turned to Aliyah, the girl she now considered a daughter in replacement for Cleopatra and laughed dryly, "A thirteenth god? My poor Phillip, he's lost his mind." Aliyah, whom had grown very fond of Olympias through the short amount of time they'd had together smiled and nodded respectfully; as she knew she was do to in public. Had they been alone, she would have laughed along with her.

Olympias sauntered up to Eurydice and sneered, "I hope the prince is enjoying the spectacle as much as our regent." Her uncle flinched at the daggers that she was glaring at him but remained silent as his niece answered lazily, "He's very tired." At this the older woman smirked and exhaled loudly in a gesture of hatred. Aliyah didn't blame her. All three women were competing for Phillip. Well, the two oldest ones were at least. But none of the three women had any idea of the tragedy that was about to strike upon them as they went their own ways.

Olympias watched the entrance of the coliseum with an air about her that fooled everyone but her son and her slave. The only two that had really had the chance to look inside her. The slave saw everything Olympias did and it had dawned on her that if she were the queen, she would be the same. Her son Alexander however, was not a lady and so he did not know how much she bled in secret. As the man to be wed made his speech about the wedding, Aliyah reached for Olympias and held her hand reassuringly. And as she did, the first queen knew that she was not losing anything at all.

"I have been blessed by the gods," the words rang, "to be wed to such a beautiful bride." Aliyah herself almost began to cry. Not for the kindness of his words, but for the pain they wrought. Aliyah could not imagine losing a daughter and a brother at once like this, but she knew the pain of losing her parents who were her only support; which sadly was almost exactly the same thing.

(Not but a Name: Alexander)

"Ah, what a man. What words he speaks. Poor fool, I would hate to see him speak through wine." Alexander watched his father criticize the man who was marrying his own daughter. Along with the sick feeling arising in his stomach, a raging anger twisted knots inside the prince. A rage which tore him up inside like a vicious beast whose pulse only beat to torture Alexander. It was irritated at Phillip for the betrayal that he had set up against his mother. The ghastly hot fog choking his heart grew thicker as he looked upon the statue of Phillip being raised. It was then that Alexander realized just how important Phillip was to Macedonia and Greece.

Phillip had already dismissed the royal guard from the stadium and a new man laughed, "No guards, your majesty? In all this crowd? There are Greeks all over the place." As Olympias' brother finished speaking a roar erupted from the crowd and Phillip embraced a man that Alexander knew not laughing, "Cleitus, my Cleitus." He had dark greasy hair that was only but a tiny bit longer than Alexander's golden locks. A plain golden band pressed his hair to his head and complimented his dark black eyes. Being a loving son, Alexander quirked a brow as the king smiled warmly at the new man.

This man was not any older than twenty six and had a piercing glare that would cut through sixty men a second if looks could kill. But luckily they couldn't and Alexander returned the glare with one of his own. Phillip, finally picking up on the tension introduced them, "This man you can always trust, Alexander. Treat him as you would me, he'll guard your back for you." The prince internally sighed, but he did not let his unrelenting glare falter. At this Cleitus smiled softly and nodded. Perhaps he wasn't so bad. After all, Alexander really had known him all his life… he just couldn't seem to remember him much.

Then the king of Macedonia tossed an arm around Cleitus and paced a few steps with him, "My people are guard enough today. Let these Greeks see for themselves how I can walk through my people. Then let them call me tyrant. Bring the main guard in after my main entry only. Cleitus, make sure the wine flows steady all day. I want them to like me." The poor prince finally saw how uncertain and nervous his father actually was. Phillip had trusted Cleitus to show him his insecurity in front of Alexander, which was an unwise move on his part. Cleitus gave a curt nod before leaving the two alone before Phillip made his grand appearance.

Noticing the shadow behind him that was his son, the king quirked a brow, "Weren't you told? I go in alone. Follow with the main guard, go on! Go on!" Phillip gave the prince some instructions and turned to walk into the stadium but was stopped by the hand laid upon his arm, "Father, its best that I go with you." By this time, the head of the guard had finished walking by the entrance with blood slowly seeping down to the ground with every step he took and every look he sent. Now, only Alexander's mother and her red dress were visible. Phillip did not see the guard and his aurora of dread and anticipation. Still, if he had, he would have known not to go in alone. But being prideful he hissed at his concerned and loving son, "You want the world to see you're my successor? Is that what she wants?"

Caught completely off guard by the burn of the question and bitterness in his father's voice, the prince cringed. But Phillip did not stop there, "Don't act so hurt, Alexander. Be a man." Alexander sighed and looked up hoping that he was just being paranoid, but still he did not leave his king's side. Hissing at his own son, the king shamed himself, "You count yourself lucky that you were here at all today! After your public display." Once more the prince cringed but did not leave his father's side. This enraged Phillip all the more, "By Herakles, by Zeus, by all the gods, obey me this once!" Alexander admitted defeat by standing back, "Have courage, father. And go on your way rejoicing that at each step you may recall your valor."

This stunned the old warrior king of Macedonia. In fact, it stunned him so much that he did not know how to respond to such praise. He always had censured Alexander so much for loving his mother, but internally he knew that Olympias was no threat to Alexander's loyalty to him. Why he abused his true son's love so was a mystery. Poor Phillip had been blinded from all the glory that dreaming brings forth. Deciding that patting the prince on the shoulder was a good enough thank you, Phillip moved on into the coliseum.

The sun was bright and magnificent, representing all the honor and glory that Phillip vainly expected from the gods. Outstretching his arms widely as a voice rang out loudly; Phillip could not help but wonder if perhaps this was not such a good idea after all. Still, he had been announced, and he could not call in his guards now. The voice cried out, "And now our beloved King Phillip! In whose honor these wedding games begin!" Applause instantaneously followed, praising the king of now not only Macedonia, but Greece as well. Soaking in the glory as a laboring slave would soak in the sun pausing for a moment; Phillip had no idea that soon his most trusted guard would betray him. Looking forward for the first time since his entrance, the king noticed that the main guard was standing not but two inches in front of his face. Puzzled by his disobedience and defiance of his orders, Phillip was caught off guard. He began to exclaim in his great confusion, "Pausanias, I told you…" Sadly, Phillip did not have the chance to finish his last sentence as Pausanias forcefully pressed his lips against his king's and gripped his strong arms around the older man. The crowd still cheered, but did not know that the sound erupting from their hands was only pushing the adrenaline through the veins of the assassin. No one could have foreseen Pausanias spit upon Phillip's face and with rage, stab him deeply twice.

Still in shock of his guard's disobedience, Phillip cried out in pain and shock before giving his body out and falling to the stony ground. Immediately Alexander was leaning over him bawling, and as he looked beyond his son's face, Phillip had a rather depressing last thought, one sad in nature and drenched in regret for having hurt his son so many times. As Phillip of Macedonia lay there dying in Alexander's arms, he could not help but wonder before letting go, "Perhaps I should have listened to my son." With that, he coughed out his last breath and let his body go limp as his soul sunk down into Hades.

The prince clung to his dead father and cradled his head in his hands before Cleitus and the others spilled into the main entrance of the stadium and tried to pry Alexander away. It was only until then that he let Phillip's head fall to the ground and join with the rest of his lifeless corpse. Pandemonium and chaos was rampant as the precipitants of the crowd leapt up from their stone seats and ran. Shouting and sobbing was heard, "He murdered out king!" Bounded one voice. "After him!" Cried another. Foreign voices were everywhere, and yet Alexander could not hear anything else besides the sound of his father's last breath echoing within his mind.

(Not but a Name: Olympias)

The first queen squeezed Aliyah's hand desperately as she struggled to stifle the look of pain, shock and overall stress that was threatening to surface. All her life, Olympias had been taught to never show her emotions as a queen, and she knew how important it was to do so. However, she could not help but grasp her servant's hand firmly and let out a tiny gasp. The boy in her window had alerted King Darius who had paid Pausanias. It was sad, she thought, how golden coins could make a man so desperate and force him to lower himself to killing someone. She herself had known Pausanias, and though she had not trusted him, she certainly would not have expected him to assassinate her husband who was now sprawled cold on the ground with his golden toga stained with his blood. Parmenion and Cleitus were the first two to join Alexander and rush to the king's side. Hephaistion was immediately next to Alexander and Philotas looked as though he was going to die from the shock.

Meanwhile, a group of loyalists and soldiers to the king of Macedonia had rushed after Pausanias and were most likely stabbing him repeatedly with no mercy. Revenge was what they wanted for such betrayal, but she knew that they would never be satisfied. From that moment on to the rest of its years, the world would mourn for Phillip of Macedonia. And yet, in all the craziness that was running around, a triumphant and jovial voice rang out into the stadium; and Olympias was surprised to realize that it was Hephaistion's. "THE KING LIVES!" He yelled, "ALEXANDER, SON OF PHILLIP! MAY THE GODS BLESS THE KING!" The queen nodded in approval at her son as he, covered in his father's blood, had the crown shoved tightly upon his head. Hephaistion smiled at his dear Alexander, "You're king now! You're king!" Ptolemy, the other person to crown Alexander, followed Olympias' example and held his emotion inside and simply supported the newly appointed king, for the gods knew he would need it. "MAY THE GODS BLESS ALEXANDER!" Soon the crowd was rejoicing once more, clapping and cheering for their new king. Friends and strangers all started to call out his name. And even though his life had just been redeemed, Alexander looked as though he could not be any more miserable.


End file.
